


The Way Your Heart Touches Mine

by bafflinghaze, ConsentFest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Communication, Hand Jobs, Healer Harry Potter, M/M, Mutual Pining, Physical Contact, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, friends first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsentFest/pseuds/ConsentFest
Summary: What does it mean when a certain someone gives you numerous gifts on ordinary days? Harry’s kind of sure (and mostly hoping) that Draco likes him. So why hasn’t Draco asked him out yet?





	The Way Your Heart Touches Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on prompt 56 by spaceaas: “ Person A is very touchy-feely. Person B is not. They both are interested in/attracted to each other, but are concerned due to their differences in preferences of physical contact.”
> 
> Betaed by [avreate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avreate)! Thank you so much for your help and your comments! Any final errors are my own.

 

 

It was late by the time Harry got back to his office, peeling off stained and stinky lime-green healer’s robes. Absentmindedly, he reached for his mug of tea and took a sip—only to shudder when he realised the tea had gone tepid. Drinks either had to be hot or iced cold—beverages in between were just _wrong_ in Harry’s honest opinion.

Knowing from past experience, trying to heat up the tea again would just cause it to bubble and boil over and make a _mess_ , Harry vanished it and sat down heavily behind his desk and pulled a stack of half-finished reports towards him. Nevermind that he, and almost every other available healer, had been called into duty in Emergency—when administrators and managers wanted reports, they wanted them no matter what.

 _Knock-knock-knock_.

Harry groaned. He scrubbed his eyes in attempt to wake up, and called out, “Come in!” Straightening and looking like he was doing work as the door opened—and relaxed when he realised it was _Draco_.

“It’s late,” Draco said.

“Are you _offering_?”

Draco gave him an indulgent smile that had Harry’s stomach flipping over.

“If I wrote your reports, Head Healer Smythe would know _immediately_ , since they’d be legible.”

Harry pouted. “I _have_ been using the handwriting-correction quill you gave me.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “You have? I must quickly acquire you an industrial strength quill, then.”

“Har-har,” Harry deadpanned. “But it’s late, why are _you_ here?”

Draco held out a hand, and a package floated over and gently landed on Harry’s desk.

“Oooh!” Harry started to rip apart the neat wrapping paper. And then he snorted, because _it was a Harry-Potter-mug_.

“I hope you realise I already _have_ a mug,” he said, poking the other mug, which was also Harry-Potter-themed. “That you gave to me ages ago.”

“This one however will keep your beverage at the exact temperature that you want it. Really, I’ve had quite enough complaining from you about forgetting your tea and returning to find it cold.” He glanced pointedly at the old mug.

Harry grinned sheepishly. “Thanks, Draco.”

Draco strode forward, and uncovered a small manual from the mess of wrapping paper. “Furthermore, you can also charm the mug to follow you.”

“Sweet.” Harry stood up. “Wanna come with me to the tea room now?”

“Do I want to spend more time in your company?”

“A-hah, that’s a _yes_ then,” Harry said smugly.

Feeling much more awake after bantering with Draco, Harry stood up easily, and the pair of them headed into the floor’s kitchenette.

While Draco started the magic kettle, Harry took out his tea canister from the cupboard. He paused. _The tea canister that_ Draco _gave him_. The canister which contained the _tea_ that Draco gave him.

Harry looked down at his feet, which stood in the soft, ergonomic-supported boots—which meant Harry could stand for long hours healing without getting sore feet—that _Draco gave him_.

Harry’s heart rate jumped.

Harry was the second person who would immediately say that Draco was _not_ a selfless person—Draco would the first.

 _Then why was Draco_ giving _Harry all these things?_

The mug looked like a joke, sure, but Harry trusted Draco that it would work as intended. Did Draco’s gifts... _mean_ something?

Harry thought hard. It _couldn’t_ be because Draco felt that he owed Harry. They had hashed out the details of life debts before they had first become friends. It _couldn’t_ be because Draco pitied him and thought that he needed more stuff—at least, not most of the time aside from Draco’s gifts of new items of clothing.

_Narcissa gives Draco presents. Because she loves her son._

Blood rushed through Harry’s ears and his heart leapt to his throat. What if this was Draco’s way of showing his _love_? Or that at least, he fancied _Harry_?

“Potter, the kettle’s done,” Draco said.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, quickly trying to twist the tea canister open. It slipped between his fingers and hit the bench top with a _clanng!_

Draco leaned over— _so close_ —and quickly righted it. Still half leaning over, he gave Harry a _look_. “Harry, if your dexterity has sharply dropped, I suggest you go home.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said immediately. He took the tea canister from Draco’s grasp and plopped a tea bag into his new mug.

Draco looked fairly unconvinced, but he gave Harry space to grab the kettle.

“Oh hey, Harry, Malfoy! It’s been a while!” Healer Alice White, who had been walking down the corridor, bustled in.

“Hi,” Harry greeted.

Alice moved in for a hug, and Harry automatically returned it. Then, she turned to Draco.

And gave him a handshake.

Or did she?

For a moment there, Harry was _sure_ that Alice was going to hug Draco too—it was what she did in greeting. But then it looked as though Draco braced Alice’s shoulder lightly, right before the two shook hands.

It was over so quickly, and now the two were standing apart again.

Harry blinked, perplexed.

“How was your internship in Scotland?” Draco asked politely, standing rather stiffly.

“It was nice,” Alice said, grinning. “Not so much hustle-and-bustle. You could actually breathe, you know?”

“But you returned,” Draco said.

Alice had a chargined look. “It was a bit _too_ quiet. It’s not quite right, with hardly any people.” She glanced at Harry, and Harry startled back into the conversation.

“Right, well, wait until you’re a bit more senior,” Harry said. “Then you’d be wishing for those quiet times.”

Alice grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind. I hope you don’t mind that I need to rush now—I’ll see you both around.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Alice gave a final round of farewell, and she was gone again.

Harry turned back to Draco...and looked away from his eyes. “Umm...”

Draco grimaced. “I should be going too. Family dinners and all.”

Harry deflated. “Yeah. I have work to do.”

“I’ll find you an industrial-strength hand-writing quill,” Draco said.

“I’m counting on you,” Harry said. He fished out the tea bag and vanished it. “I’ll see you later.”

Draco nodded, a pensive look on his face. “Oh, you will. Don’t stay so late that you fall asleep on your face.”

Harry snorted. “That was one time!” They both exited the tea room, and Harry felt himself lingering, just a bit. “So.. bye.”

Draco inclined his head, and turned away first.

Harry looked down at his mug and sighed. He trudged back to his office.

Looking around his office, at the various gifted Harry-Potter themed items, at the numerous handwriting quills and the unused desk organisers, Harry sinkingly realised that the gifts weren’t _romantic_ in nature.

If only there was a _hint_. If only Draco had given him chocolates, or flowers, or just something _more romantic_. There was treacle tart, once; and Harry had a spiky cactus at home also courtesy of Draco. But they don’t count.

Harry slumped in his chair and numbly got back to work.

*

“Oh, _Harry_.”

Harry groggily lifted his head. His mouth felt awful and the skin around his eyes felt sore from his glasses pressing into them and his back ached and there was soft light streaming through the magic window in his office and there was Draco quickly striding towards Harry, an intent look on his face and his robes flaring out in the most pleasing manner—

“You fell asleep. I _should have known_.”

Harry blinked and leaned back when a heavy case of potions thumped on top of his desk.

Draco opened up the case and shoved a potion in Harry’s face. “A pepper-up, I know you’re not going to take the day off. Of all the things—I bet you didn’t have dinner last night either, did you?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t ever feel that hungry.” Nonetheless, he gratefully took the pepper-up and downed it.

Draco’s expression tightened. “Go clean up in the showers, and I’ll acquire you some breakfast.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said. “I’m fine.” He stood up, looking away—he just couldn’t face Draco’s worried expression. “I don’t know why you care so much, anyway. It’s not like you li—”

“Why I—” Draco hissed.

Harry immediately winced. “Forget it, I’m just being stupid. I’ll go shower, and I _would_ appreciate breakfast, if you still want to…”

“Those potions are for you,” Draco said abruptly. “Pepper up and wide-eye.” He spun on his heel and left.

Harry stared at the empty space, wanting to tear his hair out.

_What does this mean?_

*

By the time Harry returned from cleaning up, there was a breakfast roll, a green apple, and a hot cup of tea waiting for him on his desk. And the case of potions had been unloaded into a new glass cabinet.

This. This had to mean that Draco had _feelings_ for Harry.

Harry had the insane urge to go find a daisy flower. _He loves me, he loves me not?_

*

Harry’s day passed much too slowly.

He needed to know.

But he was _scared_ dammit.

But he _needed to know_.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but head home early, Healer Potter,” one of the more senior Healers said. “When not focusing means losing lives, it’s _not worth it_.”

Harry bowed his head. “I’m sorry I’ll try harder—”

“ _Go home_ ,” the healer repeated. “Don’t make me get one of the nurses to drag you out.”

Harry gulped. “Understood!” He put away his things, and headed to the lobby.

And caught sight of Draco.

“Malfoy!” he immediately called out. He ignored all the sudden attention as he chased down Draco Malfoy.

Draco turned, eyes narrowing at first. “Healer Potter. Leaving already?”

“I—”

_Just say it!_

“I need to tell you something,” Harry said in a rush.

“Then tell me,” Draco said stiffly.

Harry glanced around. “In _private_.”

“Let’s go to my office then.”

Harry shuffled his feet. “It’s not really a work related thing.” He was already regretting everything he had just said. “Nevermind, I’ll just go home and stop bothering you.”

Draco sighed. “You’re not bothering me. That much.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s nothing. Have a nice day.” He turned around and started trudging away towards the floos.

To his surprise, a few moments after he had flooed home, Draco also emerged out of the fireplace.

Harry gaped. “What are you doing here?”

“I cannot leave without hearing what you wanted to tell me.”

“I—” The words stuck in Harry’s throat.

Draco reached into his robe pockets and drew out a long narrow box, and held it out to Harry. “A stronger quill, as promised.” Draco’s eyebrows lifted just slightly, with the barest hint of something on his lips, as though—

Harry rushed forward in long strides and kissed him. But he’d only made the slightest of contact—so _fleeting_ —before Draco pushed him back, his face splotched red and his eyes wide.

“Potter—”

At the sound of his name, Harry spun on his heel. “Fuck. Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t mind me, I’m just being _stupid_ again. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Harry.”

Harry turned back and glared at him. “Look, you keep giving me things. I thought it meant that you liked me. I was clearly wrong, so if you could just excuse that momentary lapse in behaviour—”

“They do mean that. But I can’t.”

“Can’t _what_?”

Draco’s eyebrows were drawn up. “I can’t. I can’t be—who you want.”

Harry gave him a look of disbelief. “I want you to be you! And…” Harry gulped. “Even though you don’t fancy me, I wouldn’t change you.”

Merlin, how he wished he could just be _selfish_ for once. He swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden blockage in his throat.

“Harry. Fuck, I _do_. I _do_ fancy you. But we’re incompatible!”

“Then why do you give me stuff? It’s not courting, or whatever? What’s the _point_?”

“If you’re uncomfortable with the gifts, I can stop—”

“That’s _not the damn point!_ ” He glared at Draco. “The point is, do you like me or not? And how would you know if we’re incompatible when we haven’t even _tried_?”

Draco gave a slight shake of his head. “I can’t give you everything you need.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

“I can’t be the partner you deserve.”

Harry shook his head, brows drawing up. “I don’t understand then! You like me? And I—” Harry forced the words out, “But you don’t want to date me. Because—” A hundred different reasons sprung to mind, and they built up in Harry’s throat, but he didn’t, _did not_ , want to say any of them. “Is it because I’m Harry Potter? Is it because I talk too much? All my previous partners said that—”

“Morgana, _no_ ,” Draco said. He reached a hand out, then pulled it back to his chest. “I—I _do_ like you. But I just _can’t_ be the partner you deserve. I don’t want you to lose out—”

Harry’s eyes ached, his cheeks felt puffy. “I’m losing out on you. Can we at least remain friends?”

“We can. We _will_.”

Harry nodded his head dully. “Can you at least tell me why we’re incompatible?”

After a moment, Draco’s shoulders slumped. “You are physically expressive and tactile. You hug all your friends, you sling your arm over their shoulders, they do the same with you. I’ve _seen_ your Gryffindor pile-ups on the rug. I’ve seen how you act with your previous partners, and I can only begin to imagine the levels of private affection you must display.”

Draco’s mouth downturned, and he looked down at the quill box, still in his hand. “I don’t think I can give you all that. I’m not so _physically_ expressive. Like ice.”

“Someone said you were like _ice_?” Harry said, immediately outraged on Draco’s behalf. “You’re _not_. I’ve seen you give handshakes. And your mum hugs you. And, you’ve supported a drunken Pansy with her arm over your shoulder—”

“My mum is a special case,” Draco said a little sharply. “And she doesn’t do it often: only when she _really_ needs to make sure I’m okay. And handshakes are brief. I have to actively participate, and that allows me to anticipate. And what would you expect me to do with Pansy? I’m not going to subject her to something as demeaning as a levicorpus!” Draco pressed his hands against his side. “I can’t give you the level of tactility you deserve. That you want, that you need.” His head tilted down. “I’ve thought about. If I could just accept it, if I could just _allow_ it…”

Harry felt stricken. “I wouldn’t _force_ you!” He automatically reached out to comfort him—

Draco looked pointed at his approaching hand, and then at Harry again. “I don’t like hugs. There’s a _reason_ I work alone in a lab most of the day.”

“Then we would never touch?” Harry said in a tiny voice, suddenly feeling very stupid and hurt.

Draco’s face softened. “I don’t like surprise touches. If you warn me—”

“Warning sounds like it’s going to be something bad.”

Harry felt sick. Maybe Draco was _right_. Maybe they were just too incompatible, and Harry was just destined to be alone.

“It’s complicated.”

“I want to know.”

“It’s—I don’t like light touches. Fleeting ones, ones out of the blue. I don’t like touching people who I don’t like,” Drao said. “I find it easier to touch than be touched. Pansy says it’s because I’m too controlling. If you want to touch me, just ask—it doesn’t have to be verbal. You _can_ hug me, you _can_ sling your arm over my shoulder.”

“And how about—” Harry made a circle with his hand and moved it.

“I like to be in control there too,” Draco admitted, a flush on his face. “Firm grip.”

Harry’s cock perked up with interest. He hoped Draco wasn’t looking at his crotch. “Then if I give you blanket permission to touch me whenever you want, would that be okay? If _I_ asked beforehand to touch you?”

“But what if it’s not enough?”

“Luna says it’s extremely foolish to expect your partner to provide you with _all_ your intimacy and touch, anyway,” Harry said.

Draco gave a wry smile. “So she does.”

“And— _no one_ is perfect, and no two people are perfect matches.” He met Draco’s gaze squarely. “I would like to _try_. If you’re game, I’m game.”

Draco stared at him for a moment. “Very well.”

Harry’s breath left him a rush. “Really?” His face stretched into a smile, his head felt giddy with joy and anticipation.

Draco huffed a smile. “Really.”

Harry’s smile broadened. “So, what now?”

Draco regarded him for a moment, and then nodded slightly. “Sit down.”

Harry gave him a quizzical look, but obligingly sat down on his sofa. His pulse jumped when Draco sat down next him.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh _yes_ ,” Harry breathed.

“Hands around my waist, hold tight.”

Harry quickly obliged. He blinked when Draco lifted away his glasses, and grinned when Draco’s hands cupped his face.

Pouted when Draco pinched one of his cheeks. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Draco admitted sheepishly.

“Still waiting for my _gift_ ,” Harry grumbled.

Draco hummed. One of his hands moved around to support the back of Harry’s head. Harry’s skin tingled.

“Deep breath,” Draco said.

Harry took a deep breath. Eyes sliding shut when Draco tilted his head and kissed him.

Behind the initial softness of lips and hands was _firmness_. Draco was kissing him, and there was absolutely no doubt behind the action. Harry hugged Draco tighter, and when one of Draco’s hands pressed against the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, Harry moaned.

Merlin, it was _so_ fucking good. Draco pushed, harder and harder, until Harry was lying back on the sofa, Draco on top of him, _still_ kissing. He pressed down, rubbed _right_ there—Harry gasped.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Can we…?”

Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s. Reached down, and drew out Harry’s cock. “Like this?”

“It’s alright—” He gasped at a particular _just right_ twist.

“Is it?” Draco chuckled.

Harry glared back, and reached into Draco’s trousers and pulled out _his_ cock. Then, smirking at Draco, he wandlessly cast some lube onto his hand.

“ _Oh_ , you sneaky wizard!”

Harry gripped, just a little tighter as he pulled—and from Draco’s gasp, it was _perfect_.

“ _You!_ ” Draco braced an arm on the sofa and kissed him.

Harry moaned, his breath ragged. He could barely remember to keep on wanking Draco.

 _Firm touch_ , he thought a little hysterically. _Firm touch is good_.

Draco gasped. “ _Fuck,_ you _better_ be coming because _I_ —” His entire body shuddered, gasped, moaned, his grip tightened on Harry’s cock.

Harry’s body arched up into the touch. “ _Fuck_.” A shot of pleasure rushed through him as he came, whiting everything out.

Harry returned when he felt the tingle of Draco’s wandless magic. _Of course,_ Draco would know wandless cleaning spells.

Draco started to get up.

“No snuggling?”

“I’m too tall for your sofa,” Draco said. “And it’s still a work day.” He gently slid Harry’s glasses back on.

Harry gave a sheepish smile. “That’s right. Can you come by later for dinner then? And for _dessert_.” Harry winked.

Draco huffed, and helped Harry to his feet. “Yes. And snuggling.”

“We don’t _have_ to if you don’t want to,” Harry had to point out. He wanted to show Draco that he was serious about respecting Draco’s touch-boundaries.

Draco fixed Harry with a look. “And you deserve to feel loved. I’ll be sure to tell you when I _don’t_ want any touching.”

Harry hummed. “Shouldn’t be a problem, right? And if we fight, I bet the make-up sex would be _great_.”

“I could _slap you_ right now,” Draco deadpanned.

Harry ducked. “Hey! Get back to work, Mister Malfoy! And I’ll see you tonight.” Instead of pushing Draco, he motioned him towards the floo.

“Practice with the new quill,” Draco said. “And I’ll see you tonight.”

“Can I give you temporary goodbye kiss?” Harry asked.

After a beat, Draco nodded.

Harry leaned in and gave Draco a peck on the cheek. “See you later, honey.” He grinned at Draco’s expression. “Too sweet for you?”

“We’ll talk about it _later_ ,” Draco said firmly.

“Very well,” Harry said with a serious face.

After Draco flooed away, Harry broke out into a grin all over again.

  


***

  


“Harry, are things alright with Draco?” Hermione asked, eyes a little worried.

They were at the pub with an assortment of friends. Draco had just left the table to order them some food.

Harry gave Hermione a quizzical look. “What do you mean? Is there something you noticed—?”

“You guys are not sitting next to each other. And I—well, I noticed that you don’t really hold hands, or hug. At first, I thought it was just because it’s a new relationship. But it’s been a few months now…” Hermione bit her lip. “You’re usually much more physical.”

“Oh.” Harry shook his head and grinned, bumping his arm lightly against Hermione’s. “Don’t worry about that. Me and Draco, we’re fine!”

“What have you told her, Potter?” Draco drawled as he set down a table order number.

Harry kicked him under the table. Draco raised an eyebrow and kicked him back. Harry sniggered. Draco preferred kicking under the table and sharp elbow jabs more than hugs and Harry was more than happy to oblige. The sharpness _grounded_ him.

Hermione looked scandalised. “What are you two _doing_ under there?”

“Ow!” Harry said when Draco’s foot connected with his shin. “No fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He turned to Hermione. “It’s _all_ or _nothing_ with Draco. If you know what I mean.” He could see the gears turning in Hermione’s head.

Hermione snorted. “I see.”

Harry doubted that she saw _everything_ given that she wasn’t privy to Harry’s many conversations with Draco (and many shouting matches and making-up sessions). “It’s just how we operate,” Harry said, shrugging. “Anyway, Draco’s too bony to be a nice hug-gee. Don’t you think Ron’s much better for that? And how about Neville? Still has all the softness. _Oh_ , Molly’s _really_ good for hugs.”

Hermione glanced to Draco. “Right.”

“Hermione,” Draco said firmly, “While I have absolutely no intention of ever getting into a Gryffindor pile-up or hugathon, I would never stop Harry from doing something he loves with people he also loves. Have a little faith that I’m treating Harry well,” he added a little drily. “I don’t think Harry would like it if he found my body in an alleyway after you did away with me.”

Harry scoffed and kicked him again under the table. “You’re so _sweet_.”

Hermione sighed and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrogate. But you know, Molly has been asking about you. Don’t you think it’s time you attended a Weasley Sunday?”

Draco smirked. “I have prior engagements on Sundays.”

And what _Harry_ knew was that Draco didn’t want to have to explain his boundaries to the Weasleys, and Harry knew that attending a Weasley Sunday would mean an exercise in frequently reminding them that not _everyone_ liked being touched, despite good intentions.

Even _Harry_ had occasions where he slipped up, but he knew how to navigate past them without fuss, the way the Weasleys _wouldn’t_ know.

Hermione just shook her head, but thankfully changed the topic.

Harry reached out for his forgotten glass to take a drink. And then pulled a face. What had been iced cold was now room temperature.

Across the table, Draco sighed, even though a smile hovered over his lips. “Let me get you a new glass, Harry.”

Harry perked up. “Thanks.”

Draco’s gaze was warm, and full of indulgent love. “You’re welcome.”

  


_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> The moment I saw the prompt, I thought about _The Five Love Languages_ by Gary Chapman: 1. Words of Affirmation, 2. Quality Time, 3. Receiving Gifts, 4. Acts of Service, and 5. Physical Touch. And in particular, I wanted to explore how people with different preferences could navigate a relationship together.
> 
> Here, Harry and Draco each have their own preferred ways to show and receive love: Draco prefers to give gifts, do tasks for Harry, and spend time together. Meanwhile, Harry prefers to use physical affection, words of affirmation, and also spending time together.
> 
> Due to their differences, they need to communicate to navigate a relationship. Especially with the prompt, I wanted Harry and Draco to discuss what sorts of touches Harry wanted, and what sort of touches Draco would be okay with. Draco explicitly tells Harry how being touched makes him feel, allowing Harry to better understand what kind of touches he can initiate freely (see: _both_ of them actively kicking each other), and which ones he should ask (get consent) for. At the same time, Harry communicates to Draco that Draco has open consent for initiating any touch on Harry. Implied is that Harry freely hugs other people (platonically), in part because Draco also understands that Harry has different touch level requirements than himself.


End file.
